


Peggy's introduction to the 21st Century

by KByrd



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it really Peggy who claims to have travelled forward in time? Or is it just wishful thinking on Steve's part? The thing is ... time travel isn't even the weirdest thing that happens in Marvel comics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was almost abandoned (sorry for the long wait between updates), but I'm back working on it again. Hope I didn't lose too many people with the delay.

He can't quite believe what he's seeing.

 

Steve looks through the one way glass in the interrogation room at headquarters.

Peggy Carter is sitting at a table in the plain, white room.

Peggy Carter. Not as he has so recently seen her, frail and old and ill, but the Peggy Carter he remembers from the war – young and vibrant and healthy. Incongruously, she’s wearing her army uniform.

Maria Hill watches him carefully, noting how intensely he watches Peggy. “You OK?” she asks.

“Course,” he answers absently. “Got those pictures for me?”

“Just a moment. You want to wait for them?”

“No.”

“She’s passed everything we’ve thrown at her,” Maria notes.

“What about DNA?” he asks.

Maria shrugs. “No family.”

He glares. “I’ve just been to a funeral filled with family members. Had you asked ...”

“Blood relatives,” she interrupts him. “Apparently her brother was infertile and adopted his kids. We asked Sharon right away and she told us that her father was adopted.”

“Oh.”

“So it’s up to you,” Maria says. She wavers on the brink of giving him more advice, but he’s been briefed already. He won’t appreciate more fussing.

Steve takes a deep breath and walks into the room where Peggy is being held.

She glances up at his entrance and looks as shocked as he’s ever seen her – for a moment. Then she pulls herself together.

“Steve,” she says breathlessly, standing up. “Captain Rogers. What are you doing here?”

Her crisp accent brings memories flooding back.

“Agent Carter,” he nods. “Please sit.”

She does, watching him with a mildly confused expression, a slight line creasing between her eyes.

He sits down carefully in the second chair, watching her warily, carefully. “They didn’t tell you I was here?’

“No,” she retorts, some of her spunk returning. “They’ve told me very little. Nothing useful. What are you wearing? And what have you done to your hair?”

He automatically rubs his short, buzz cut hair in a self conscious way.  “What have they told you?”

“Some tosh,” she dismisses the news with a wave of her hand.

He fiddles with the slim file that he’s brought into the room. “Do you know what year it is?” he asks carefully.

She gives him a wary, sideways look. “They told me that I’d ended up in the future,” she admits. “But obviously, if you’re here ...”

He gives a little half shrug, “Well, I’m here, still here, because of the serum, more or less,” he says vaguely.

She focuses on him. “You mean it is the future? Are you immortal?’

He snorts, thinking of the ache in his shoulder and the sore back and the headaches he suffers from on occasion. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You look different,” she observes. “Besides the silly clothes ... there’s something else about the way you walk, carry yourself.”

“When did you last see me?”

She scowls at him.

“Trying to establish a timeline,” he explains with a gentle shrug.

“Is this Hydra?” she asks sharply.

“No.”

“They’re watching us?” she nods at the dark mirror like window taking up most of one wall.

“Yes.”

“And they sent you in to ... what interrogate me?”

“It’s not an interrogation,” he smiles at her fierceness.

She raises one imperious eyebrow. “Good, because you’re terrible at that. Do they know?”

He grins. “Yeah. It’s just that I’m the only one who might know you. Only one left, really.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Peggy,” he tries again. “Can you tell me the date?”

She looks around the bare, whitewashed room. “Well, yesterday it was April 4th, 1945,” she answers tartly. “At least that was the date when I went to bed. As for today ...”

He nods, waiting.

“How long have I been ... held or whatever?”

“Have you been held somewhere?” he asks. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “What is the date? The real date?”

“August 2014,” he says gently.

She hardly reacts.

It occurs to him that she doesn’t believe him.

“So April ...” he remembers. “We’d made pretty good progress at that point, mopping up Hydra bases.” The war was almost over, he thinks to himself.

“Did we win the war?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers before he can rein himself in.

Maria Hill tsk tsks in his ear pierce. “Don’t give her anything she can use,” she reminds him.

Peggy looks amused. “But?”

“But nothing,” he pushes back.

Peggy regards him carefully and he resists the urge to squirm under her examination.

“So how are you going to prove that I am who I am?” she asks.

He taps the file. “How about you tell me a story that only I would know is true?” he suggests mildly.

She narrows her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, a conversation we had,” he suggests. “Something we said in private ...”

To his surprise, she looks furious. “I’ve already been asked some very rude questions by other agents,” she says tightly. “Implying that you and I ... that we were ... more intimate than we were. How’d they get that idea I wonder?”

“Not from me,” he assures her quickly.

Maria sighs in his ear. “Tone it down,” she urges.

Peggy snorts. “Like I’d ever have been one of your conquests ...”

“Peggy,” he cuts her off quickly, acutely aware of the people listening and watching.

She tosses her head, looking over at the window.

“Peggy,” he tries again.

“How’d they get the idea then?” she asks imperiously.

“The ... what?”

“That you and I were ...?”

“Oh,” he looks a little embarrassed. “I might have said that I regretting never ... ah ... telling you ... um that I ... ah ... how much I respected you. During the war.” He finds that he’s rubbing his hair nervously, unhappy that his declaration is being made in front of an audience more or less.

She looks unimpressed. “I was in Military Intelligence,” she points out. “And your puppy dog eyes didn’t hide much. You should never play poker by the way.”

He makes a face.

Behind the glass, Maria and Andrew are fighting not to laugh.

“So did something happen?” Peggy asks. “Since you never found the balls to ...? I mean you’re here and I’m here, but what happened between then and now?’

“No details!” Maria hisses in his ear.

Steve blows out his cheeks. “I can’t give you details, but yeah, something happened,” he admits. “Basically, I flew an airplane into the Arctic ocean and was assumed dead. We never got to say goodbye.”

She nods, lips pursed, considering him. “Even if you had ... said something, I never would have ... reciprocated,” she tells him bluntly. “Last thing I wanted was to join the conga line into your bed. Not going to be a notch on your bedpost.”

“Peggy!” he complains, actually aware again of the audience. His ears are burning red.

Behind the glass, Maria barely prevents herself from snorting coffee up her nose. Andrew is doubled over, laughing.

“Did she just imply what I think she did?” he asks Maria.

“Imply nothing,” Maria responds with a grin. “She just called Captain America a man whore.”

“Think she knows him?” Andrew wonders. “That’s not really the reputation ...”

“Maybe she knows him better than we do,” Maria grins.

Peggy looks amused, shooting a quick look at the mirror glass. Steve figures she’s playing her audience a little bit.

“If we could just get back to the topic at hand?” he suggests although he’s pretty sure it’s really Peggy by now.

“You’re terrible at interrogation,” she says smugly.

“Private conversation between you and me that no-one else would know about?” he encourages her desperately. “Come on. Throw me a bone.”

She looks at him again, sizing him up. “I can’t remember very many private conversations,” she admits.

“Really?” He doesn’t want to lead her.

She thinks. “Even before the serum?” she says.

“Sure.”

“Well. There was that time, a few days before you had the treatment. Do you remember?”

“Umm ...”

“You were taking all those tests, baseline exams, running on a treadmill ...”

“Oh yeah.” He’s hoping like hell that she’s not going to tell the story of their conversation in the medical wing of one specific test that still makes him blush.

“You were all on your own, right? Everyone else had been transferred out so you were sleeping alone in the barracks, right?”

“I remember,” he nods.

“And I came by very late at night,” she recalls. “You should have been asleep.”

“Oh yeah.”

She smiles. “I shocked you, didn’t I?” she remembers. “Coming to meet you all by myself?”

“I think I remember the incident,” he answers, smiling despite himself. “But, you didn’t shock me.”

“Humph.”

“What would you have done if I had been asleep?” he wonders.

“Just walked by,” she shrugs. “Gone for a walk. But you were awake. You leapt out of bed as soon as you heard me. Very guilty. Were you up to something?”

“No ma’am,” he assures her firmly. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“And I brought chess,” she remembers. “Figured since you were reckoned so clever that you’d know how to play.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t remember who won the first game,” she says tartly. “I know I won once; you won the other game.”

He smiles in memory.

“And then you walked me back to my quarters,” she reminds him.

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t want to lead her on.

“And nothing happened,” she finishes with a flourish. “You were very gentlemanly.”

He rolls his eyes.

 

There’s a knock at the door and Maria enters carrying a stack of glossy pictures.

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking them from her.

Peggy glares at Maria rather fiercely.

“Should I introduce you two?” he says mildly, amused at their hostility.

“We’ve met,” snaps Peggy.

Maria smiles and departs.

Steve spreads out the photos on the desk. Several are of Loki in various ‘costumes’, at least two are of Thor and several others are of other people dressed in Asgardian attire.

“Wondering if you’ve ever seen any of these people?” he asks Peggy mildly.

She makes a face. “Is this modern fashion?”

“No,” he assures her. “More like fancy dress ... I can explain more later on.”

Despite her disdain, she takes her time, examining each photo carefully.

“These three,” she taps the photos of Loki. “They’re all of the same person. And he’s familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“Thanks,” Steve says gathering the pictures up. “You’ve answered what I need to know. Next thing to consider is what to do you with you.”

There’s a squawk from his ear piece that he ignores.

“You’ve convinced me,” he says.

“From one story?” she snorts.

He grins. “No-one else would talk to me quite like you do.”

She smiles a little.

“So,” he continues, “there’s no way to know how long you’ll be here, but it may be a while. I’d like to invite you to come stay in the Avengers Tower which is where I always stay when I’m in New York.”

She looks nonplussed. “I hadn’t thought ...”

“You can’t just walk out of here,” he explains gently. “Too much has changed.”

“I hadn’t ...” she admits.

“We have some experience in this kind of ... well similar situations,” he explains.

“Really? How’s that?” she asks. “Oh never mind.  How long ... can I, should I?”

“You can stay for as long as you want. We’ll sort out clothes and papers and money and provide you with a kind of orientation to the 21th Century.”

“You don’t live there yourself?’

“When I’m in New York, but there’s plenty of room.”

“Well, OK. I guess I’ll have to trust your judgement in this matter.”

He stands, “Shall we get out of here? There’s a lot more to see in this new world.”

She smiles warmly for the first time since he walked in. “Lead the way, captain,” she says. “I can’t wait to see this future of yours.”

 

Maria is outside the room looking exasperated, but not as angry as he had expected.

“I’m sure,” he says firmly before she can say anything.

“Me too,” she surprises him by saying. “Not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened. Want me to call Pepper?”

“Yes please. Can we have a car and driver?’

“Downstairs.”


	2. Chapter 2

In the car, he briefs her quickly on the tower and its occupants.

“Officially it belongs to Pepper who is the CEO of Stark Industry and Tony Stark’s fiancé,” he explains, “but it was built by Tony Stark.”

“Howard had a son?” Peggy marvels. Away from the interrogation room, she is starting to relax, but she’s also distracted, looking out the windows at the view.

“No flying cars yet,” Steve points out.

“How very disappointing,” Peggy smiles. “So Howard finally settled down? Or did he? Did he have a little ... accident?”

“Think Tony was a late-in-life child,” Steve explains. “But, yeah, Howard did finally get married. To some Italian heiress or something. About half his age,”

“Surprising and yet not,” Peggy comments drily.

“Tony is a lot like Howard,” Steve says carefully. “Brilliant, mercurial, rude ... I gather he doesn’t have good memories of his dad.”

Peggy cuts her eyes at Steve. “So Howard’s not ...?”

“No,” he answers sharply. “There’s no-one left from our time.”

She guesses that there’s more to that comment than he’s letting on, but she changes the subject. “Can you tell me now what you couldn’t tell me earlier about the whole – ‘flew an aeroplane into the ocean’ tale?”

So he tells her the story, briefly, as unemotionally as he can, skipping over the last conversation between them and trying to make her laugh with tales of adapting to the new century.

She knows him too well.

“That’s awful,” she murmurs, patting his hand. “What a terrible experience. How difficult it must be for you.”

“Thanks,” he says, surprisingly moved by her empathy. “I’m OK now. There’s lots to recommend about the new century.”

 

The whole team (well of those who are in New York) has assembled in the common area when they arrive. He can tell that Peggy is nervous – she re-applied her lipstick in the elevator, but she radiates a kind of cool competence.

Pepper, as hostess, is first to greet her with a handshake and smile. She apologizes for Tony’s absence – he’s in Los Angeles.

Natasha, Clint and Bruce are there as well.

Peggy shakes hands and smiles tightly. Her coolness is slipping into ice – a sure sign that she’s feeling out of her element.

“Drink?” Steve suggests, walking over to the bar.

“Yes, please.”

“Still whiskey on the rocks?” he asks.

“Still?” she says archly.

“It’s been a while for me,” he reminds her in amusement. “Just checking that I have it right.”

Everyone else already has a drink so he takes a beer for himself and hands Peggy her whiskey.

“So,” Natasha says brightly, her eyes sparkling. “You’re Steve’s long lost love?”

“Certainly NOT,” Peggy protests fiercely.

Steve winces and resists the urge to facepalm.

Natasha looks startled.

Peggy glares. “We worked together,” she explains firmly. “In Military Intelligence. There was never anything untoward between us. In fact, I hardly ever saw him once he went into the field.”

Steve takes a pull of his beer while his friends re-assess.

Ever the hostess, Pepper tries to steer the conversation to a safer topic. “Have you ever been to New York before?”

“Yes,” Peggy answers, thawing slightly. “I was based in Brooklyn when I worked for Erskine on the project.”

“We’ll have to show you around,” Pepper suggests warmly. “Give you a bit of a tour.”

“That would be lovely,” Peggy agrees. “Does anyone mind if I smoke?” She pulls out a mini clutch purse and waits.

Several people glance nervously at Pepper who abhors the smell of cigarette smoke, but she smiles graciously and nods. “Be my guest,” she says.

“Jarvis,” Steve says, vaguely to the ceiling (a habit he cannot break). “Is there a lighter somewhere?”

“Second drawer on the right, behind the bar,” Jarvis answers and Steve wonders if he’s imagining a note of disapproval in his voice.

He fetches the lighter.

Peggy puts her cigarette in her mouth and waits for Steve to politely flick the lighter and hold the flame steady for her.

Clint and Natasha share a quick amused look.

Bruce hums. “Steve,” he says, “got any theories about this time travelling thing?”

“Pretty sure it’s Loki,” Steve answers.

Everyone sits up.

“How’s that?”

“Isn’t he in jail?”

“No way.”

Steve shrugs. “He came to see me while I was in the hospital. Offered me a deal.”

“You didn’t report that?” Natasha exclaims.

Steve doesn’t ask how she knows. He shrugs. “Honestly? I thought it was a dream.”

“Damn I wish we knew where Thor is,” Clint grumbles.

“Might be connected?” Bruce notes thoughtfully.

“Think so,” Natasha says.

“Who’s Thor?” Peggy asks.

There’s a pause.

“God of Thunder,” Steve admits. “He’s a member of our group. When he’s on earth.”

“Well, isn’t that a step up from the Howling Commandos,” Peggy retorts.

He grins. “Not so different really.”

“What did Loki say to you?” Natasha asks, all business as usual.

Steve considers. “Said he had a new ... toy. Showed it to me. Kind of a red, glowing orb, about the size of a baseball.”

“Like the tesseract?”

“Something like that.”

“How’d he get out of jail?” Pepper asks.

“I asked him that,” Steve admits. “He just laughed.”

“Somebody is going to need to go to Asgard,” Bruce suggests.

Everyone looks at Steve. He rolls his eyes.

“Asgard is what?” Peggy asks. “Another planet?”

“Pretty much,” Steve acknowledges.

“And you’ve been?”

“Uh huh.”

Peggy gives him one of her - don’t bullshit me – looks.

Steve shrugs.

“What did Loki want?” Natasha asks seriously.

Steve hesitates. “He didn’t specify ... exactly,” he admits.

“What did he say ... exactly?” Natasha frowns.

“It was all kind of fuzzy,” Steve hedges.

Both Peggy and Natasha glare at him.

Steve sighs. “He said that he would come to me later, asking for payment, and that I would give him what he asked gladly.”

“That’s bizarre,” Bruce frowns.

“What does he want?” Clint wonders.

“Back up,” Natasha says. “WHY will you give him what he wants? Is he talking about brainwashing?”

No-one looks at Clint.

Steve makes a face. “He said he could give me my heart’s desire and I would do anything to keep it,” he admits. He doesn’t look at Peggy.

But everyone else does.

Peggy takes one last drag at her cigarette and rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s very flattering,” she says coolly. “Are you telling me that you can’t find a single girl in the 21st Century just like me?”

“There’s no-one just like you,” Steve mutters, his ears flaring red in embarrassment.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Some people might think of Pepper as little more than Tony's girl - attractive, competent, elegant - but she's far more than that. She has courage.  
   
Taking Peggy shopping is no-one's idea of fun and Pepper could easily have justified passing the task on to one of her assistants,  but Pepper wants to get to know this woman with the fierce reputation, who captured the hearts,  not only of Steve Rogers, but rumor has it of Howard Stark as well.  
   
Steve is willing to go with them, but Pepper waves him off.  
   
"We'll be buying clothes and such," she says airily. "I know how men get hanging around change rooms, checking their watches, grumbling about time being money ..."  
   
"I am NOT Tony," he protests.  
   
"If she has questions, she might be more likely to ask them of me, a stranger," Pepper points out.  
   
A day removed from waking up in the future, Peggy is calmer, less brittle. She is polite, expresses appreciation for the lovely suite she's been given at the Tower, and admires the fancy coffee machine.  
   
She's wearing her army uniform of course.  
   
"Got any preferences?" Pepper asks. "Any designers or styles you particularly like?"  
   
"I wouldn't know," Peggy admits. "I'm not one for high fashion. And obviously things have changed considerably."  
   
"Do you mostly wear skirts? Dresses?" Pepper muses. "Nowadays women wear pants - I mean trousers"  
   
"I noticed," Peggy agrees, but she looks pointedly at Pepper's elegant cream suit with its long, tailored skirt.  
   
They visit high end fashion houses and everyday department stores. Pepper brushes off cost with a shrug. "Imagine you're in another country. Five dollars American might be a thousand lira or whatever the local currency is," she says. "But just because the numbers look high, doesn't mean they cost more in real dollars."  
   
Luckily Peggy is an educated woman who understands economics and she's travelled plenty so the concept of foreign currency values is easy to grasp.  
   
They shop for undergarments and shoes and outerwear and jeans and skirts and dresses and they pile their loot into the arms of the chauffeur who loads bags and bags into the limo and then comes back for more.  
   
They stop for lunch at a tiny little cafe with no menu where they simply tell the waiter what they're in the mood for and the chef whips up a scrumptious platter.  
   
Pepper is intrigued to note that Peggy has the same reaction as Steve to much of the food - too sweet, too artificial. She's always wondered if food has really changed that much or if the serum renders him particularly sensitive. Now here is Peggy, a woman with no serum enhancing her taste buds, scrunching up her nose and sending back her tea.  
   
But Peggy also appreciates how clean everything is.  
   
Pepper's never thought of New York as particularly clean, but she remembers Steve mentioning the air pollution of his youth.  
   
"Oh yes," Peggy agrees. "London is just black. The clouds are grimy from all the factories.  
   
And less poverty.  
   
That shocks Pepper. She sees the homeless people huddling for warmth around subway grates and she feels shame.  
   
But Peggy comments on how everyone is so much better dressed, wearing decent shoes, warm coats. “Steve says that hunger is almost a thing of the past,” she says in wonder.  
   
“We have different problems now,” Pepper admits.  
Peggy asks about world events and Pepper tries her best to fill her in. "I think Steve has books and video," she apologizes. "Might be a better way of learning everything in order. I never studied history."  
   
Peggy wishes Pepper were more confident in her knowledge.  
   
They return to the tower for a nap and then dress for dinner.  
   
Steve joins them.  
   
"Where are the others?" Peggy asks.  
   
"Bruce has a date; Clint and Natasha had a meeting," Pepper says coolly. "Tony's on his way, but there's no point waiting for him."  
   
Steve asks about their shopping adventures.  
   
To Pepper's eyes, he seems to be just the same. He's nicely dressed, he pulls out their chairs and pours their wine. He's sweet and attentive and for the first time since Pepper's known him he seems comfortable.  
   
Just as they're finishing dinner, Pepper's cellphone rings so she apologizes profusely and excuses herself.  
   
"So, you had a nice day?" Steve asks Peggy with a smile. "Pepper must have taken good care of you."  
   
"It's all a little overwhelming."  
   
"Tell me about it."  
   
She cocks her head. "Will you be honest with me?"  
   
"I'm always honest."  
   
"Not when you're trying to avoid offence."  
   
He makes a face.  
   
"I need a guide to this new world."  
   
"Of course," he says quickly.  
   
"So," she says carefully, "will you tell me when I'm about to commit a faux pas?"  
   
"Sure."  
   
"So if I pulled out my cigarettes out again?"  
   
He hesitates, good manners warring with his promise. "I suggest that you smoke on the balcony," he answers carefully.  
   
She quirks an eyebrow and looks in the direction of the balcony.  
   
He takes the hint and rises, holding her chair politely and leading her out to the balcony.  
   
"It's quite lovely out here," Peggy observes.  
   
"Amazing view," Steve smiles.  
   
"Pepper will think less of me for smoking?"  
   
"No, no," he hastens to assure her. "But she doesn't like the smell."  
   
Peggy squints at him. "She's not the only one, is she?" She asks. "I couldn't help but notice all the non smoking signs."  
   
He nods, reluctantly. "It's really become a kind of social no-no," he agrees. "Considered rather low class if you really want to know."  
   
"Thank you for your honesty."  
   
"No-one's going to think that of you," he says quickly. "Everyone knows it was more common back in our day."  
   
"Do they forgive you your quirks? Habits?"  
   
"Absolutely," he says firmly. "Although I did take rather a long time to adjust. I do get teased about clinging to old fashioned ways."  
   
"Ah ha."  
   
She doesn't bother with the cigarettes which are more of an occasional indulgence than a habit. Instead she marvels at the bright, twinkly lights far below her in the city.  
   
"Do you think I'm here for good?" she asks suddenly. "I mean, I'm not clear on how this time travel thing is supposed to work."  
   
"Your guess is as good as mine," Steve answers thoughtfully. "Although considering what Loki promised or threatened ...."  
   
"He might just whisk me away?"  
   
He shrugs. "What did you think of New York?"  
   
"Bright, crowded, busy ..." Peggy says.  
   
"Noisy?"  
   
"Not compared to London just last week. These modern cars are so quiet I almost stepped in front of one. Doesn't help that they're on the wrong side of the street."  
   
"You're adapting very well," he says mildly. "I walked around with my mouth open, just gaping at everything."  
   
She smiles gently. "Speaking of taking things well ..."  
   
"Hmm?"  
   
She looks amused. "You're pretty calm for a man who just had his heart crushed."  
   
He laughs. "Well, maybe there's a bit of revisionist history going on."  
   
"You mean you weren't madly in love with me?" she asks in mock horror. "I'm shocked. Hurt even."  
   
He rolls his eyes. "When I tell people that my biggest regret was never telling you how I felt, it's not because I expected you to fall swooning into my arms."  
   
"Not my style," she agrees in amusement.  
   
"I just can't figure out why I waited. What I was afraid of." Steve sighs, looking serious for a moment. "Probably the most important lesson I've learned is that it's better just to say or do what you want. No point in having regrets."  
   
Peggy smiles. She shivers ever so slightly in the cool evening air and Steve notices. He whips off his jacket and puts it gently around her shoulders.  
   
"I'm fine," she assures him.  
   
“I don’t get cold,” he reminds her.

“What gives you the idea that I might have reciprocated?” Peggy asks. “If you’d gotten up the … err courage to ask me to a dance or something?”

“Uh,” Steve stammers. “I didn’t know that you would,” he admits, trying for a light tone. “I just … wish I had gathered up the courage to at least ask.”

“Hmm,” she says sceptically. “You’re not telling me something.”

“Peggy!” he complains. “There’s 70 years of history for you to learn. Sure I haven’t told you everything, but I’m not lying about anything.”

“I was a spy,” she reminds him tartly.

“And?”

“And there’s something,” she notes. “You are different. You look at me differently. What happened between then and now – I mean the ‘now’ where I was – and ‘now’ in the future?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Well, you kissed me,” he says. “Does that count?”

“I kissed you?” she says in surprise.

“Yup. Right before I got into that airplane”

“A peck on the cheek?” she teases him.

He sighs, slightly annoyed at the many ways that women can push his buttons. Natasha is always trying to make him blush, Darcy keeps apologizing for saying things she thinks he’ll find shocking and Maria …

“It was quite the kiss,” he tells Peggy firmly, unable to prevent the smile from creeping across his lips. “A real, lip-smushing, tongue curling kiss. The kind that keeps a guy dreaming of a gal for a good long time.”

She looks faintly smug.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he leans into her, looming over her really since she’s quite astonishingly short.

She reacts as he would expect her to, by standing up to him and lifting her chin defiantly.

“Want me to demonstrate?” he says with a quirk of his eyebrow, hoping like hell that he’s not perceived as leering at her.

A flash of surprise shows in her eyes and then she grins and nods.

So he kisses her.

And it’s good. She meets him halfway, sliding one hand along his face and curling around the back of his neck.

And for all that their first kiss lives in his imagination, at the time, it was a snatched, awkward fumble compared to this one. Back then, he was hanging off an airplane, trying to keep a grip on the gear even while trying to match Peggy’s lips to his own, half upside down à la Spiderman, acutely aware that he was going to have to let go.

This time, they’re alone on a balcony, face to face. He pulls her closer and kisses her, really kisses her the way he’s fantasized for years, long before he actually did and long after he woke up in this new century.

And they are interrupted by Jarvis, making a sound like a man clearing his throat. “Excuse me Miss Carter, Mr. Rogers,” the AI says sounding apologetic.

They pull apart reluctantly. Peggy’s eyes are shining and he’s breathing heavily like he’s just returned from a run. “Yes Jarvis?”

“I thought you’d like to know that Mr. Stark has just arrived. He is in the elevator, on his way up.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and then inclines his head to indicate that Peggy should follow him back into the apartment.

They enter just as the elevator makes a soft chime and opens to reveal Tony, looking somewhat frazzled and travel worn.

“Oh!” Peggy exclaims, clapping her hand over her mouth. “You look so much like Howard!”

And Steve resists the urge to facepalm AGAIN because there’s nothing that Tony hates more than being reminded of his father.

Indeed, he scowls and glares at her. “The famous Peggy Carter?” he asks in a withering voice. “Funny … I remember you older.”

 


End file.
